


Oh My Ole Heart

by LunnarChild



Series: in a sundrenched world [1]
Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: Gen, Past Love, Trying to move on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7781044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunnarChild/pseuds/LunnarChild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are no other words that can be said about it: Keira loves Jak. Not loved, love. Present tense, even though some days – most days, unfortunately – she wished she didn’t.</p>
<p>What was a worse fate than a girl in one-sided love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh My Ole Heart

_I wanted to tell him that I loved him,_  
but I was afraid  
that he would hear me.

_—_

| 

_and in the bitter silence of my heart I screamed and yearned for him //[k.s.](http://worthystevie.tumblr.com/)(via [worthystevie](http://worthystevie.tumblr.com/))_  
  
---|---  
  
 

There are no other words that can be said about it: Keira loves Jak. Not loved, _love_. Present tense, even though some days – most days, unfortunately – she wished she didn’t.

What was a worse fate than a girl in one-sided love?

There are days she wished she hated him. Could scrounge up some piece of her that could hold onto to at least a spark of ill tidings towards the boy – no, man. Jak was a man now. After everything that has happened to him, after everything he has done to get this far, no one could call him a boy. Not anymore. He was not the silent sweet boy of yesteryears. That boy was gone.

Not dead. There are pieces of that boy that still lingered in the warrior she saw these days. An echo of who he used to be. A living ghost existing as a living memory, only she is one of the only few who knew. A glimmer of how he used to be.

Jak was hardened by his time in Barron’s prison and Errol’s mad science experiment that nearly cost him his life. He was more reckless, less caring of the indirect consequences of his actions on indirect bystanders. He didn’t care about the bikes he stole to get around town or the people he had to knock down to achieve his goal. He joined the resistance to get his vengeance, not to liberate the people. Not that Keira could talk, but at least she never pretended otherwise.

(She knew that Jak felt the same. His intentions were blatantly known.)

On her so-so days, the not good days or the days she wished she could hate Jak, Keira mused the boy she knew was Mar. Now all that was left was Jak. It was days like this made her sick to her stomach. The implications of that thought left rolling waves of unpleasantness – an unsettled gritty, oily feeling in her gut and a foul taste in her mouth. Of course, that wasn’t right. Mar, the boy she knew from Sandover, and the Jak now were completely different people.

Keira had never met Mar, never knew of his existence until that moment at the rift gate. She saw him sometimes, around the base or sometimes in the market, always out of the corner of her eye. But Keira didn’t _know_ him in any real context. He appeared timid, kept to himself and his caretaker(s), clinging to them with a fright-stricken fist. It wasn’t until that final fight with Korr and the sight of home only a glowing portal away that she had the chance to actually _look_ at him. Wild green hair spilled out of an achingly familiar red cap. Wide, innocent blue eyes stared up at his future self in awe. He looked impossibly small in his older self’s arms. He wasn’t much more than a baby, really.

One of those few time were Keira felt utterly powerless as Jak loaded his younger self into the time machine that would transport him and a younger Samos to a safer place. To a place, the only place, she would ever call home.

The boy she knew in Sandover was almost a completely different person. There were traits that remained, their muteness being obvious. But Mar and Jak shared overlapping qualities. Jak was genuine in everything he did; his curiosity, that burning adventurous spirit he’s carried his entire life, the genuineness of every intention, just to name a few. But Jak showed newly gained confidence, inspiring determination, and breath-taking courage.

And she destroyed him.

If it wasn’t for her, then Jak would never have to go through the awful things that happened to him in the prison. Would never have been tortured or lost his father, his innocence … so many things could have been prevented if she hadn’t built that damn machine. The same could be said for Daxter. If it wasn’t for her he would have never met Jak, never went to Misty Island and eventually fall into that vat of dark eco. Jak would still be in Haven City, relatively safe but safe none the less.

If it wasn’t for her meddling then so many tragedies could have been prevented. Korr would never have the chance to begin his conquest in Sandover which would sweep across the land like a plague. King Damas’s rule would have gone unchallenged, the Barron might have never gained control of the city.

In spite of all her self-contained grievances, the fall out between her and Jak still burned with a terrible ache in her chest. The pain was still too fresh and burned brighter than a white hot coal.

If she didn’t feel as guilt ridden she could almost scrounge up enough negative feelings to mold it into resentment. Precursor’s know she was capable of it. Keira has hated, even loathed with a fiery passion once, before.

But not Jak, never Jak. And Keira is so sick of it.

She wants to scream. She wants to shout. She wants to beat his face in with her largest, most dented wrench – if only for the extra total surface area. She wants to be able to punch him in the nose, have it bleed and be crooked for the rest of his life, without breaking her hand. Some days she wants to run him over with a buggy or dangle him off a cliff with a fraying rope. Some days she wants to shake him so hard his equilibrium is thrown off for days. At the follow-up meeting since the Dark Makers, Errol, and … and Spargus, Keira would swear she has spent more than half of that time, fantasizing about various ways to hurt that boy.

Make no mistake, she loves him; her violent thoughts notwithstanding. But, as she had learned, you can love someone but hate them at the same time. Or in Kiera’s case, be eternally frustrated.

The day will come when Kiera will get down to the crux of the problem. And that problem was herself. She hated the way he made her feel. He made her hate herself.

And like always, she could almost hate him for it.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a one-shot that's been on my mind for a while. It's still a rough draft so some day I might come back to this and revise. Critiques are welcome.


End file.
